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10 Ceti System
GNS Frank Lovell
01/28/42 NR 2419 Hours
Luisa sat back in her chair and stretched with a weary sigh. She’d spent the evening poring over the starmap’s symbols, trying to make sense of the mysterious but beautiful glyphs. The work had been done by hand; the artist was left handed and apparently worked while seated, judging by the angle of the cuts and the random variations in the lines. She still insisted on thinking of the artist as a young human woman, to Adam’s chagrin.
The task of decoding and analyzing the drawing would have been easier if Luisa had been willing to load the data into the Lovell’s main computer, but she dared not risk it. There was entirely too much at stake, so she always kept the drawing on a datachip and simply used the display’s holographic program to read the datachip. She’d taken a chance by making a copy and leaving it with Aaron, but it was necessary.
She checked the chronometer on her display and frowned. It was getting late, and she had one more task to accomplish this night. The Martian extracted a datacard from her pocket and passed it over the scanner built into her terminal. Working quickly, she typed several commands into her virtual keyboard, and a messaging display appeared in front of her. As her fingers moved in what would have appeared to an observer to be empty air, characters appeared on her terminal; a long string of numbers in the header, and three terse sentences in the message body. Luisa paused for a moment and took a deep breath, and then she pressed the ‘SEND’ icon in the message display.
Forty meters aft of Luisa’s cabin, the secondary laser communications array on Lovell’s dorsal spine turned outward to the coordinates Luisa had programmed into the message header. Power flowed though the two meter diameter focusing array, and a quarter second burst of near ultraviolet laser energy raced outward toward the Delta Volantis wormhole terminus, twelve light minutes away.
Luisa noted the message had been sent, and she closed the messaging system and brought up another program. Ten seconds later, all traces of the message’s existence had been erased from the scout’s communications logs. She closed the program, and shut the terminal down. Luisa stood, stepped over to the narrow locker next to her bunk, and took out a small, flat box imprinted with the shield of the Martian Defense Force. She pressed her right thumb onto the center of the emblem, and the box popped open with a soft click. The interior was lined with a soft synthetic cloth with some rather special properties. She placed the datacard and the datachip containing the drawing into the box and closed it. She returned the box to her locker and closed the door.
Stepping back, she grasped the neck of her shipsuit and pulled the seam open at the front. She opened it all the way, and pulled it off her shoulders and arms. As she stepped out of the suit, she caught sight of herself in the mirror built into the locker door. Her face was drawn, and her hair hung limply down her right side. Huge, dark eyes stared back at her, haunted with the pressure from the role she had to play. Tears began to roll down the face in the mirror, and Luisa finally turned away. As she showered and made ready for bed, she wondered how she would ever explain her actions to Aaron.
28 Librae System GMS Alan Dean Foster 01/34/42 NR 1927 Hours
Stars speckled the overhead viewport, and Luisa wiped water from her eyes and kicked to stay afloat. She’d taken the opportunity to enjoy the swimming pool the engineering department had built in one of the Foster’s cargo bays. The children had needed the exercise, and the adults needed the distraction. A school of kids flowed past her, splashing and laughing.
The last six days had been an exercise in patience for Luisa. Sitting and doing nothing – and not daring to communicate with Adam about what his team was doing – was worse than combat. Every day the Genevans sat huddled here was one more day the Unis had to reinforce and come after them again.
She swam to the side of the pool and grasped the ladder. She’d grown used to the heavier gravity the Genevans preferred, and she was no stranger to swimming. Every Martian community maintained a swimming pool as part of their water storage, and Luisa had enjoyed the sport since childhood. She pulled herself out of the water and padded to the showers.
Fifteen minutes later, Luisa emerged from the pool area, freshly showered and dressed in a newly issued uniform. The Foster’s quartermaster had insisted on issuing her a complete officer’s uniform allotment, complete with a Martian Defense Force patch and a customized insignia declaring her status as a liaison officer. It was all horribly embarrassing, but she had managed to smile and take the locker full of clothing back to her quarters aboard the Lovell.
It was nearly dinner time, and Luisa hurried along the passageway in loping strides, aided by the much lighter gravity closer to the center of the ship’s rotation. The lift to the docking area was around the next corner a dozen meters ahead, and she allowed herself to bounce higher as she neared the turn. Her boots touched the deck, and then something slammed into her. She barely had time to get her hands up before she smashed into the bulkhead.
Training took over, and Luisa twisted to find herself face to face with a blonde woman. She barely had time to see a glint of metal before her hands locked onto her attacker’s right arm. A fist slammed into her right side, and a feminine screech of rage came as the woman fought to free her arm from Luisa’s grasp. The blow took her breath away, and she staggered as the woman jerked her arm back. Luisa could see the knife clearly; a twenty centimeter straight survival blade, and she knew she had to hold on or die.
The woman’s reaction helped Luisa to get her feet under her once more, and the Martian took full advantage; she launched herself off the deck and drove her assailant back. The blonde’s eyes widened as she brought her left hand up in an effort to free her knife hand. Luisa was taller and stronger, and the woman yelped in pain as her head struck the opposite bulkhead.
Luisa’s feet touched the deck, and she brought her right knee upward in a vicious blow to the blonde’s crotch. The woman gasped in agony, and Luisa twisted her arm outward, forcing the knife away from her body. The blonde refused to drop the knife, so Luisa kneed her three more times in the lower abdomen and groin, until the knife clattered to the deck.
The Martian scooped the blade off the floor and pressed it to the blonde’s neck. Her hands quivered with a mixture of adrenaline and rage; she wanted nothing more than to drive the blade straight through her erstwhile murderer’s neck. The woman’s eyes were pale blue orbs in an ashen face, and she opened her mouth to plead for her life.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut your miserable head off,” Luisa snarled. She bared her teeth in a predator’s grin, her eyes mad with fury. She pressed the tip of the blade inward, dimpling the tender flesh of the woman’s throat under the razor sharp steel.
“I was following my orders,” the blonde stammered. “P-p-please, I don’t want to die.” Her lower lip quivered, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. A rivulet of blood ran down her neck from the blade’s point, and she whimpered in terror.
Luisa eased the pressure against the woman’s throat as her reasoning mind asserted itself. The sight of the woman’s blood on the blade unsettled her, but she was still in a dangerous situation. “Whose orders?” She glared at the assassin, who she noted was dressed in a uniform nearly identical to her own.
The blonde’s eyes narrowed and she started to say something. Luisa bared her teeth again and pressed harder with the blade tip. The point penetrated the woman’s neck, and she cried out in horror as fresh blood trailed down the blade in a thin stream. “I don’t think you understood me,” Luisa grated icily. “I will kill you right here and take your corpse to Aaron – Admiral Peters. I promise you he will believe me when I tell him why I had to kill you.”
“Aaron sent me,” the blonde gasped. “He’s the one...” She broke off with a wail as Luisa rattled her skull against the bulkhead with her free hand. “Don’t you lie to me!” Luisa hissed in renewed fury. She leaned in until her nose was a bare centimeter from the blonde’s. “Don’t lie to me!”
“N-n-n-ot l-lying!” she gasped out between sobs. “H-h-his, o-o-orders. Saw them, I swear! H-had to s-s-see them ... to do this. He said you ... spy for Terrans.” She took a ragged breath. “If I die, I’m doing it for the children!”
Her own heartbeat roared in Luisa’s ears, and her heart hammered in her chest so hard she could barely breathe. She took a step back, still pointing the bloody knife at her would-be killer. Tears filled her eyes, and she fought the horror that threatened her ability to think. Aaron loved her, she loved him, and she’d trusted him. She took a deep breath and scrubbed at her face with her free hand.
“You’re coming with me,” she blinked and focused on the woman’s nametag, “Sarah Hsu. If you do anything I don’t like, I will kill you. Do you understand me?”
Sarah nodded in fearful supplication, and Luisa smiled grimly. “First, give me the sheath for this thing.” The blonde passed the black synthetic fabric sheath over with a shaky hand. “No, go on. We’re going to the Lovell, to my quarters. If you try to talk to anyone about this, or try to escape, you’re dead. Now, move.”
Ten minutes later, Luisa stepped into her quarters behind a thoroughly cowed Sarah and closed the door. She’d met Perla on the way in, and explained that Sarah was helping her with the research on Zene, and had accidently cut herself in a fall. It was a flimsy excuse, but Perla seemed to be satisfied with that response, and, after a stop in the vacant maintenance shop, Luisa was safe for the moment.
“Turn around,” she ordered, and Sarah complied with a puzzled frown. Luisa jerked her hands behind her back, produced three plastic zip ties, and securely bound the blonde’s hands. “Sit,” she shoved the woman down on the end of her bunk and used a longer tie to secure Sarah’s handcuffs to the bunk’s attachment point on the bulkhead.
“You can’t just keep me here forever.” Sarah pulled at the restraints and winced as the tough polymers dug into her wrists. She had no hope of breaking free, and she sagged against the bulkhead with a sigh.
Luisa nodded, her eyes cold. “You’re right. I could stuff you out the nearest airlock, though, and I can do it without setting off the alarms.” She bared her teeth at Sarah’s horrified look and nodded. “Oh, yes. Keep that in mind. Now, I will be back in a few minutes. You sit tight and be a good girl.” Luisa stepped to the cabin door. “If I hear you yell, I’ll stuff a dirty sock in your mouth and tape it in there – if I decide to let you live.” Sarah nodded fearfully, and Luisa opened the door and stepped into the passageway.
She hurried to the ship’s locker, a storage area for equipment and supplies. The colonists’ early experiences on New Geneva had underscored the need for small arms, and Lovell carried a selection of them for the crew. Luisa picked a semiautomatic pistol and a shoulder holster rig, plus three magazines, two boxes of ammunition, and a ballistic jacket. She turned the weapon over in her hand as she thought furiously. After three minutes, she had devised a course of action that just might let her live.
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